When I graduated from art school, it took me a while to remember why I loved art. You'd think after spending four years studying everything from cave paintings to post-modernism, learning innumerable theories, and practicing new techniques into the wee hours, I'd have at least some inkling of why I wanted to do this. But there's a shift that happens when you take something you love purely for the sake of indescribable wonder it instills and put it through a meat grinder, break it apart, pound on it from every angle, and squirt it out the other side with a graduation cap and a diploma.
